Oh Words, Where Will You Take Me?
by Chiddie
Summary: Chapters, each one based on an icebreaker.
1. A Memory Captured

**A/N: **Based on this ice-breaker: If you had your own talk show, who would your first three guests be? (Yes, I know the only thing similar is the talk show. Emphasis, **based **on.)

* * *

She's been waiting for this moment for years.

_Okay Brittany, you can do this._

Brittany walks out from backstage to a studio full of cameras and people hired to be the audience for the talk show.

Talk show, you ask?

Yeah. Brittany's the host of _Fondue for Two_. Fuck the haters who said she'd never make it. Several years of blood and sweat, with no one but her girlfriend by her side…_FFT_s a household name now, raking in millions.

But enough about the past; it's the time for now.

The show's theme song ends, and Brittany walks in, greeted with applause.

She smiles at the camera, winks at the balding man near the front of the audience who surprisingly swoons, and twirls to sit in her chair. She wheels back and places her feet on the desk.

"Hey everyone, welcome back to _Fondue for Two_! Wheel it in, men!"

Two guys in cat suits (in honor of Lord Tubbington, may he rest in peace) wheel in the huge pot of fondue and settle it near the table laden with bite-sized appetizers. They turn around to face Brittany and give her a salute. They stay in position as Brittany stands up and gives them the Vulcan salute. They notice the signal and scamper off.

She has five minutes.

_I can't do this._

_Yes I can._

_No I can't._

_Yes I can._

Brittany fingers the box in her pocket. Then she remembers she's on a nationally-aired talk show.

She turns to the audience and smiles even brighter.

"So, you guys are probably wondering who we're bringing in today. She's pretty smart, graduating top of her class in high school, graduating from our very own Stanford University and earning a Doctorate in Philosophy in Comparative Literature. Right now, she has a novel that's on its way to becoming a best seller. But enough about that. Our guest is also gorgeous, sexy, kind, funny, adorable, and the love of my life, everyone, welcome Santana Lopez!"

The room is filled with applause and awwwws, and in a few seconds, Santana comes in. She looks stunning, and Brittany can't help but feel nervous.

_You can't do this._

_Shut the fuck up._

Santana waves to the audience and blows a kiss to the camera, like the adorkable goober she is, and sits herself on the sofa.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Brittany has to get a hold of herself. It's almost time.

She turns to the camera.

"Sometimes, I forget how these shows begin."

She pouts, then her face lights up as if she was stuck by an idea.

"Hey San," she says, turning to her girlfriend. "I need to ask you a question. Get your lazy ass over here."

Santana sticks a tongue out at her but still walks to her side. It's cute that she's still taller than her, even with her killer heels.

Stop taking so long, Brittany. Any second now.

"Yes, your highness?"

"I was wondering," she says, looking at the audience. "Did you guys know that lgbtq marriage is legal here now?"

She walks in front of Santana as the lights dim. The room is down to a hush, with only the notes to a familiar song disturbing the silence.

_Thanks Sam._

_It's now or never._

She kneels in front of her.

"I wanted to be with you ever since I met you. I know that we're not perfect, but that makes _us _perfect, because we love each other even with our imperfections. You complete me, you make me better, you fill up all the empty spaces that life gave me. You were there for me, you supported me, you believed in me, and, I don't know what I'd be now without you. I wanted to be with you ever since I saw you at that playground trying to reach for the monkey bars. But I loved you since before the beginning of time. I was made to love you. Santana Maria Lopez, will you marry me?"

Her eyes never leave hers throughout the whole dialogue, and she watches as they grow moist.

She hears the smallest of whispers.

"Ye—yes."

Brittany stands up and kisses her.

_Finally._

1


	2. Ox Tongue

**A/N:** "What was the weirdest food you've ever eaten?"

* * *

"San, what's the surprise?"

You're blindfolded in your girlfriend's kitchen. Normally, you'd be in bed, but Santana seems to want to try something different.

You smell meat and spices boiling; god, you always love it when your girlfriend cooks.

"Is it our anniversary? Lord Tubbington's birthday?"

You hear her laugh, a sound which always fills you with joy.

"I'm making up to you for something you did last week."

You did a lot of things last week. You and your family went to Chillicothe to visit your uncle who lives there, and your parents invited your _girlfriend _to tag along. You don't remember any particularly romantic moments. It's hard, because you're always sickeningly sweet together.

"_So_, what did I do?"

"Shhhh. I need to concentrate. You don't want me to burn it now, would you?"

You move as if zipping your lips, and you give her an okay signal, wherever she is.

Moments later, you hear the clinking of a pot. Footsteps sound throughout the kitchen, and you feel someone sitting next to you.

"It's sort of hot, so, like, be careful."

You move to untie the blindfold, but hands slap for you to stop.

You turn to where you heard Santana's voice come from and pout.

"How do you expect me to eat then?"

You feel a kiss on your cheek and warmth radiates from the spot.

"I'll feed you. Duh."

Did you mention them being sickeningly sweet?

"You know how much I hate being treated like a child, but I'll make an exception."

You hear a little splash of sauce, and your mouth starts watering. Did you ever mention that your girlfriend cooks better than your mom? That's like, really good.

"Open."

You let open your mouth, and you feel the cold metal of a spoon touch the inside. Its contents are dumped into your mouth, and—

_God._

A cascade of flavor explodes in your mouth as the sauce touches your tongue, but somehow in a way to emphasize and bring out the taste of the piece of meat that is bathed in it. The meat itself is juicy and chewy, and it—god, you can't even describe it.

"More," you say.

"I knew you'd like it." There's a smile in her voice, no, more like a…smirk? You know Santana, that's definitely a smirk.

But…the food…

After two or three bites, you'll ask.

Two plates later, you remember what you wanted to ask.

"What's this?"

"_La lengua de toro_."

Toro…Taurus…bull? Lengua…lengua…uh…

"Beef…something?"

"You can untie your blindfold now."

There's that smirk in her voice again.

You untie the blindfold and stare at the plate in front of you.

Oh god.

"Ox tongue?"

Santana's giggling, but, ugh, you basically french-kissed a cow.

"Remember when we you took me hang gliding?"

"You liked it!" you whine.

"You practically orgasmed right now."

"I'll have my revenge."

1


	3. Pain in a Peanutshell

Mercedes was talking with Santana about Shelby coming back to visit when it happened.

Her homeboy Kurt was having a dinner party in celebration of his birthday. He's been planning it for months; Mercedes would know. Aside from Rachel, she was his sole whine dump.

So, anyway, dinner party. Mercedes was waiting on the sofa while Sam was getting her a drink, when Brittany and Santana sat down next to her. Well, Santana sat down next to her while Brittany left to get _her _drinks. Sometimes, they were almost as cute as her and Sam. _Almost_.

"Evening Wheezy."

"Satan."

"Your boy makes a pretty decent party. This chicken is good, even with my standards."

"Says the girl who's practically in love with blocks of cardboard."

"Aretha, I don't kno—oh, you do _not _diss the 'sticks. Don't make me rip the weave off yo' head."

Mercedes almost laughs at the thought. She would have been terrified a year ago, but now that she sees who Santana really is, well, she can't really imagine such a huge dork rip her to shreds. Thank god for Brittany.

"Like you'd ever do that Lopez," she smiles.

Santana rolls her eyes and takes another bite out of her chicken. Oh yeah, Mercedes has to tell her something.

"Shelby emailed me last night. She says she's coming back to Lima for three days and wants to meet her girls."

She sees Santana smile at the last words.

"Good. I started to think she forgot about us. You planning to do one more Troubletones number for her?"

"You just read my mind. So I was thi—Santana, are you okay?"

Mercedes notices that Santana has trouble breathing.

"No, no, I'm fine, it's just—god—is it stuffy in here or is it just me?"

"If you want, I can call—"

She's about to stand up when Santana stops her.

"No Wheezy, really, I'm fine; maybe a bit lightheaded, but I'm just preparing for the alcohol."

She settles back down, but Santana's eyes are closed, and maybe she should really call Brittany. Suddenly, Santana slumps into the sofa, her plate clattering to the ground.

Mercedes shouts. "Brittany! Brittany!"

ND members swarm in.

"Santana?"

"What the hell?"

"Is she okay?"

Brittany pushes through Rory and Finn and runs to her unconscious girlfriend.

"Kurt, what the hell was in the chicken?"

"Radish…ancho powder…cabbage…peanu—"

"Fuck!"

She opens Santana's purse and dumps its entire contents on the sofa. She grabs a pen-like object and lifts Santana's dress to expose her thigh. Swiftly, Brittany pierces the skin with the pen.

"Someone, god, call an ambulance!"

Mercedes immediately dials for one.

"Just slap some water on her; she just fainted or something. Isn't that what girls do—"

"Shut the fuck up Finn, if you still want your potato of a head connected to your shoulders."

Brittany places her arms behind Santana and lifts her from the couch and lays her on the floor. The glee kids gather around her; Mercedes can't believe how stupid they are.

She stands up.

"Everyone, give them some space! Someone, go outside and wait for the ambulance."

She sees Mike and Tina exit the room. The rest fall back as requested.

Brittany's ear is hovering over Santana's mouth.

"Is she breathing?"

As an answer, Brittany starts doing CPR. She places her right hand two fingers above Santana's xiphoid process, over her sternum, and starts pushing her whole weight down on it. Mercedes isn't trained, but she knows that she needs to pump at least a hundred times per minute. That's exhausting, even for Brittany.

"Who knows how to do CPR?"

Quinn and Sugar raise their hands; Mercedes gestures for them to come closer. Where in heaven's name is that ambulance?

Brittany's done with thirty pumps; she stops and breathes into Santana twice. She starts again and continues the cycle.

Mercedes hears the sound of sirens, and a few seconds later, Mike and Tina rush in, followed by two paramedics. They take over from Brittany, and then they place Santana on the cot and bring her outside. Brittana follows.

Mercedes says a quick prayer.

She hopes the Lord will keep Santana safe.

* * *

Mercedes enters the choir room the next day and sees Brittany sitting alone. There's an empty chair next to her, so she walks over to where it is and sits.

"How's she doing?"

"She's okay, but she needs to rest for a day or two."

Brittany's voice is low and quiet.

"Thanks for helping Mercedes."

"We didn't do anything, if you remember."

Brittany smiles.

"Well, it's the thought that counts."

They settle into a silence as they wait for Mr Schue to come in.

"Mercedes?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when I wanted to dress up as a peanut allergy for Halloween? You know why now."

3


	4. Sense

**A/N:** "If you had to lose one of your five senses, which one of them would you prefer to lose and why?"

* * *

You wake up one morning to see Brittany staring lovingly at you as if you were the most beautiful thing on earth. You feel that way, but you know it isn't true, because the most beautiful thing to have ever existed is her.

She smiles at you shyly when she sees that you're awake, and you whisper to her a good morning.

…you whisper to her a good morning.

…you whisper to her a good morning.

You feel your lips move, but you don't hear anything come out. Brittany is looking at you with a worried expression on her face. She looks like she's saying something, but nothing reaches your ears.

I'm deaf, you make yourself say.

Realization hits you like a freight train.

You're deaf.

_You're deaf._

You won't be able to hear people talk.

You won't be able to listen to music.

You won't be able to _sing_ anymore.

Singing has always been your retreat, where you go to when you needed to take time off the world. Singing was where you could truly express yourself when your hard mask of long ago restricted you from doing so otherwise. Singing is, _was_, your one joy and passion, aside from Brittany.

_Brittany._

You won't be able to hear her weave stories from thin air.

You won't be able to see how she makes even the most mundane of things sacred.

You won't be able to listen to her whisper sweet nothings in your ear in the silence of the night.

You won't ever be able to hear her say 'I love you' or 'I love you back'.

You blink back tears as arms wrap around you. She strokes your hair and kisses you gently on the forehead.

Her touch says, 'We'll find a way.'

Her touch says, 'I'm here.'

Her touch says, 'I'll never leave you.'

Her touch says, 'I love you.'

1


	5. Grave

**A/N: **I killed two birds with one stone :D

"If you had to be a flower, which one would you like to be and why?"

"If you could be laid to rest anywhere, where would it be? Why?"

* * *

It's drizzling, raindrops falling from the sky like the grains of sand one does his best to hold on to. It falls on a figure with an umbrella, someone standing over a grave.

The gold of Brittany's hair has faded over time into a beautiful white, and her skin has wrinkled up slightly; though still quite tall, she is slightly bent, but even as the rest of her has clearly aged, her smile is just as bright, her eyes still as blue.

It's over Santana's grave that she's standing.

Her best friend. Her lover. Her girlfriend. Her wife.

Her soulmate.

It's been three years since the good Lord took her from Brittany's arms, but Brittany tries not to remember that. Instead, she remembers why Santana chose this place to be laid to rest.

Brittany takes out from her purse a laminated card. In it is a dried up daisy, the one which Santana gave to her just before Brittany first told her that she loved her.

Brittany still remembers.

There were no graves back then. It was all blue skies and green grass, several miles away from the nearest town. Their dads went off hunting in the nearby forest, so they were alone. As soon as they left, Santana gave her the flower.

Brittany still remembers; how she'd averted her eyes as she handed it to Brittany, how her foot made circles in the grass, how she mumbled when she started talking about the daisy's meaning, about patience and simplicity and cheer and how it reminded Santana of her. Honestly, Brittany couldn't have prevented those three words from pouring out of her mouth.

_I love you._

She was surprised when Santana didn't retract, even though she had before with much smaller actions. Instead, she smiled shyly.

That was also the day Brittany began to hope.

And it was good that she did so.

She fingers the card, stroking its plastic edges with her fingers. The daisy, also a symbol of loyal love. It was given to her the first time she told her she loved Santana. More than sixty years later, she said the same words, just before she took her final breath.

She pockets the card, before water seeps into its edges.

She steps forward to the grave, and lays down a red rose, Santana's favorite flower.

A symbol of beauty, passion; deep love, immortal love.

She allows a tear to fall; it mingles with water from the heavens, on top of the ground where Santana laid. She does not allow any other tears. What's the use of crying?

She says goodbye, the words lost as they are carried by the breeze.

It won't be too long before it's her time.

Finally, she'll meet her, once again.

1


End file.
